An Indian’s capacity for self-sacrifice is also revealed in a favorite Blackfoot tale recorded by Grinnell (39-42).  A squaw was picking berries in a place rendered dangerous by the proximity of the enemy.  Suddenly her husband, who was on guard, saw a war party approaching.  Signalling to the squaw, they mounted their horses and took to flight.  The wife’s horse, not being a good one, soon tired out and the husband had to take her on his.  But this was too much of a load even for his powerful animal.  The enemy gained on them constantly.  Presently he said to his wife:  “Get off.  The enemy will not kill you.  You are too young and pretty.  Some one of them will take you, and I will get a big party of our people and rescue you.”  But the woman cried “No, no, I will die here with you.”  “Crazy person,” cried the man, and with a quick jerk he threw the woman off and escaped.  Having reached the lodge safely, he painted himself black and “walked all through the camp crying.”  Poor fellow!  How he loved his wife!  The Indian, as Catlin truly remarked, “is not in the least behind us in conjugal affection.”  The only difference—­a trifling one to be sure—­is that a white man, under such circumstances, would have spilt his last drop of blood in defence of his wife’s life and her honor.

THE STORY OF POCAHONTAS

The rescue of John Smith by Pocahontas is commonly held to prove that the young Indian girl, smitten with sudden love for the white man, risked her life for him.  This fanciful notion has however, been irreparably damaged by John Fiske (O.V., I., 102-111).  It is true that “the Indians debated together, and presently two big stones were placed before the chiefs, and Smith was dragged thither and his head laid upon them;” and that

“even while warriors were standing with clubs in hand, to beat his brains out, the chief’s young daughter Pocahontas rushed up and embraced him, whereupon her father spared his life.”

It is true also that Smith himself thought and wrote that “Pocahontas hazarded the beating out of her own brains to save” his.  But she did no such thing.  Smith simply was ignorant of Indian customs: 

“From the Indian point of view there was nothing romantic or extraordinary in such a rescue:  it was simply a not uncommon matter of business.  The romance with which readers have always invested it is the outcome of a misconception no less complete than that which led the fair dames of London to make obeisance to the tawny Pocahontas as to a princess of imperial lineage.  Time and again it used to happen that when a prisoner was about to be slaughtered some one of the dusky assemblage, moved by pity or admiration or some unexplained freak, would interpose in behalf of the victim; and as a rule such interposition was heeded.  Many a poor wretch, already tied to the fatal tree and benumbed with unspeakable